“Oh!” she exclaimed. “A mere trifle—anything will do for me.—Have you any potted shrimps? No?—never mind. But I cannot eat anything smoked. A beef steak, not overdone.”
“And do not forget,” said her husband to this benevolent official, whose black frock-coat was emblematic of the Christian grace of hospitality. “Do not forget that we drink nothing but Sauterne.”
Fúcar presently reappeared, still melancholy, but in a great hurry, proving that sorrows are not incompatible with an appetite. It was late and the whole party were in need of food.
The Tellerias and Don Onésimo, who made his appearance after they had begun, did honour—in gastronomic cant—to the marquis’ cook. Milagros, to be sure, whether from fastidious elegance or because grief had spoilt her appetite, hardly tasted anything.
“Do not let your anxiety be too much for you,” said Don Pedro, “you must try to eat something. I have much to worry me too—yet reason tells me I must eat. Make an effort, and do likewise.”
The happy efforts of Don Pedro’s self-command were amply proved by a slice of steak which he was carrying morsel by morsel to his mouth, plentifully seasoned with its own gravy, and butter and lemon. Milagros after her oysters, only tasted and minced at the food, but really ate nothing; while her husband ate of every dish, savoury or sweet, first gazing at them with a flattering smile and then paying them treacherous attentions with his fork. Truffles, sausages, and smoked tongue, with other trifles more filling than digestible, tempted him to make acquaintance with their charms.
“And Pepa?” asked Don Onésimo suddenly.
“At Madrid,” replied Fúcar, not lifting his eyes from his plate, on which the remains of the steak might have represented the treasury of Spain so much was it shrunk in dimensions. A long silence ensued, interrupted at last by Don Pedro himself, who again remarked to his neighbour:
“My dear madame, my dear friend, it is our duty to control our feelings.—Besides, it is not a desperate case, María is better to-day.—What, tears? Come, come, just half a glass of Sauterne.”